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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094705">Discomfort Has a Reason</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/pseuds/textbookchoices'>textbookchoices</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/pseuds/textbookchoices</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn't lie about the fact that he can't get pregnant. He didn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shotgun Wedding Flash Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Discomfort Has a Reason</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts">HogwartsToAlexandria</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint tugs awkwardly at his collar, feeling hot all over for no good reason. </p><p>It's been like that for a few days now, overheating to the point of discomfort one minute and perfectly fine--or even cold, if it's the middle of the night and he's kicked the dog off the bed and shucked the blankets off after him--the next. </p><p>He normally likes his collar, dammit. It's soft, supple, lightweight. It's even dyed a vivid shade of dark matte purple. The buckle clasp never pinches like collars he's worn in the past, and that's all thanks to Tony's ridiculously expensive taste that Clint will never be able to bring himself to complain about (in regards to the collar, anyway). Best of all, despite tradition dictating that his alpha's name be embossed or engraved on the material--a nice step up from more stringent traditions that require branding on the skin--the leather itself is completely smooth and blank of a claim unless you turn it inside out specifically to look for the small, handprinted signature: Tony Stark. </p><p>Not that the bite mark situated three inches below his neckline doesn't mark him as claimed. Tony's not that crazy.</p><p>Back to the point; Clint is sitting just inside an office window on floor 112, bow loose in his fingertips, arrows at the ready as soon as he gets the all clear, and he keeps getting distracted by the goddamn temperature, by his collar rubbing against his throat, by the way his standard Hawkeye uniform pants feel the slightest bit too tight. </p><p>It's annoying.</p><p>It doesn't ruin his aim or his timing when Steve's voice comes through, but still.</p><p>Annoying.</p><p>(He complains later that night, throwing darts casually at a dartboard Dum-E is fumbling around with in the lab while Tony works on not electrocuting himself, and then they have a fun night with Tony fiddling with the collar, smirking every time he asks, "And how about now?" with every slight adjustment of the buckle clasp.)</p><p>Two days later, Tony stumbles in, still dressed because he'd been in the lab all night, and finds Clint throwing up in the bathroom at three in the morning. He rubs smooth circles over Clint's back. They go to sleep, careful not to jostle too much in case Clint's random bout of nausea comes back. </p><p>Tony doesn't suggest Clint see a doctor, because they both fucking hate medical, and that's one of the reasons Clint is absolutely in love with his alpha.</p><p>Three weeks later, Clint nearly blacks out while rappelling down from one building to another, and he only manages to not turn into a purple, acrobatic pancake because Iron Man rockets in to snatch him out of the fall mid-air, about thirty feet from the cement.</p><p>Steve makes him go to medical.</p><p>Tony doesn't argue.</p><p>Clint almost opens his mouth to complain, but Tony's hand through the armor is perfectly still on his wrist. Perfectly still. Like he's locked the armor into place to avoid anyone seeing what's happening on the inside.</p><p>Clint is taller than his alpha, usually, but the Iron Man suit levels out their height pretty well. Clint leans in to rub his mouth against Tony's jaw, and then says, "Yeah, yeah, medical, whatever," and lets the white lab coats drag him off to medical.</p><p>Here's the thing: Clint was beaten nearly to death when he was fifteen. He'd had a concussion, three broken ribs, four fractured, a broken arm, wrist, and a broken leg (broken in two places). On top of that, an arrow had pierced his lower stomach, and by the time the ambulance had gotten him to the hospital, they'd managed to save his life, but his womb had suffered irreparable damage. Omega or not, he'd never be able to carry children. </p><p>They'd sent in some soft-spoken therapist to tell him, right before he'd snuck out the window with stolen pain medication in his pocket and a cast still on his leg and arm, because fuck if he had any idea how he was going to pay for the medical bills and Barney and the rest were long gone.</p><p>He'd told Tony, before they'd had their mating ceremony, before Tony had bit him and given him his collar. Tony had laughed, and said that made it easy then because he didn't want kids. Never had. Never would. They were a match made in heaven.</p><p>So Clint isn't sure how to react when the doctor sits down next to him in the medical wing of the tower and says, huge fucking smile on his face, "Congratulations, Hawkeye. You're pregnant."</p><p>
  <em>Congratulations, Hawkeye. You're pregnant.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Congratulations.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're pregnant.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Congratulations.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're preg--</em>
</p><p>He throws up again.</p><p>They don't even do him the common decency of waiting for him to wash his mouth out, brush his teeth, and confess the fucking reality of the situation to Tony himself. </p><p>Tony comes in, Clint grimacing as a nurse hands him a little paper cup of water and a bowl to spit in, and judging by his wide, shocked eyes, his pale skin, the shaking of his hands, they've already said <em>Congratulations, Mr. Stark! Your omega is pregnant!</em> like that's honestly a good fucking thing.</p><p>Like they want to be congratulated about this colossal fucking mistake.</p><p>"I didn't lie," Clint says first, because it's been twenty years, but he can still feel his father's fists against his cheek, can still hear Carson's threats and feel Duquesne's boots on his stomach. "They told me this couldn't happen."</p><p>"It's been four years since we got together," Tony says, blinking at him. "I know you didn't lie."</p><p>He sits on the edge of Clint's medical bed, staring at his own hands, rubbing them together awkwardly. Nervously? </p><p>"I don't, uh. Know exactly what to do here, Clint," Tony admits. He glances at Clint, and his eyes flicker toward Clint's perfectly flat stomach. He can't be all that far along. Not yet. He rubs at his face. "Jeez, a bun in the oven. And neither of us can cook worth a damn."</p><p>Clint winces and looks away. Tony must really be rattled if that's the best he can come up with. He lets out a slow a breath, a flood of self-pity taking it's place. "Aw, Tony. I can--it's early, still. I can get the docs to take care of it. This doesn't have to ruin anything."</p><p>Tony flinches, so hard, so sudden, that Clint actually feels it with how bed moves. </p><p>"No, yeah. Makes sense," Tony says, words coming out fast. Too fast. Clint straightens up.</p><p>Tony stands. "I need to call Pepper, we'll get you set up, get it all taken care of, we're--"</p><p>"Tony, do you not want me to?"</p><p>Clint's heart is in his throat. God, he's never even cared that much about kids. Sure, it sucked when he first found out he'd never be able to have them, but it's been years. He's had plenty of time to get used to the idea. But now--now--</p><p>"What? God, like it's even up to me. And no. No. Do you know how terrible of a dad I'd be? The worst. I'd forget to feed it, try to make it up to them by buying out Six Flags or something."</p><p>Clint has to roll his eyes at the image, if just because Tony Stark <em>would</em> absolutely try to buy out amusement parks for his kid. And that--well, that's not a bad image. It's an idea, anyway. Him, Tony, their kid, running around an amusement park all day. Eating too much ice cream and cotton candy and throwing up after going on a roller coaster twenty times in a row. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>"We could keep it. You'd be a good dad."</p><p>And God, what a statement. Tony would be, obviously, even if Clint had to remind him more often than not. Clint thinks he could manage it too. He's pretty okay at taking care of Lucky, and even Tony remembers to feed the dog when Lucky starts nosing at his ankles. And sure, he forgets to take Lucky for walks, but Jarvis has a nice shutdown protocol where everything in the lab pauses and won't turn back on if Lucky is pawing at the elevator.</p><p>How much different can a kid be?</p><p>(Something tells him a lot, but he thinks--he thinks they could handle it. Together. Maybe.)</p><p>Tony looks at him, eyes wide with too many emotions to take stock of. Alarm. Fear. Surprise. </p><p>Interest, maybe.</p><p>Hope, maybe.</p><p>"You don't think I'd fuck it up?" Tony asks, and it's not a no.</p><p>Clint scratches at his nose where a fresh band-aid is covering yet another abrasion. </p><p>"I think if we fuck it up, Nat'll be there to kick our asses and we'll fix it."</p><p>Tony's mouth quirks up at the corner and he says, "Point."</p><p>He sits back down, and Clint can't help but reach forward and take his hand, curling their fingers together. "Just putting this out there. You, me, baby. That's crazy talk."</p><p>"Sounds about normal for us then."</p><p>Tony laughs, and then leans over to brush a hand over Clint's collar, still smiling softly. He says, "Hey, ready to break out of here?"</p><p>Clint grins.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em> yes."</p>
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